


Here from Eden

by pineapplepizza



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), First Time, Idiots in Love, Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Tender Sex, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), title is from “From Eden” by hozier bc I’m unoriginal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-10-01 17:27:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20350666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplepizza/pseuds/pineapplepizza
Summary: “Would you like to sleep with me?”“What?” Crowley sputters out, almost dropping his wine glass. But he knows, before the word had even left his mouth, that the answer is; yes, of course, Angel. Anything you want.





	Here from Eden

“Would you like to sleep with me?”

“What?” Crowley sputters out, almost dropping his wine glass. But he knows, before the word had even left his mouth, that the answer is; yes, of course, Angel. Anything you want. In his 6000 years on Earth, he has never been very good at denying Aziraphale anything, and there’s no sign of that changing any time soon.

“I said would you like to sleep with me?” Aziraphale repeats, remaining infuriatingly calm. He’s sitting primly on the sofa, the very picture of angelic innocence, as if he’d only asked Crowley what he fancied for lunch.  
“Yes I bloody heard you,” Crowley snaps, only because he’s worried if he doesn’t go for snappy and sharp he might well melt into a puddle of demon goo right there on the bookshop floor.

“So…” Aziraphale prompts, all heavenly patience.

“So.” Crowley tries to gather himself, takes a sip of his wine and continues, “So, I’m a little confused is all. What’s brought this on all of a sudden?” He mentally pats himself on the back for making it through that sentence without choking on his own tongue, which feels very odd in his mouth all of a sudden.

“Well, my dear boy, it just seems a little silly. I’ve been on Earth for 6000 years and never tried it.”

“And you want to? Try it I mean?”

“Well, yes.” For the first time during this whole ordeal, Aziraphale has the decency to look a little embarrassed. “I’ve heard it feels rather good.”

And, oh, it makes so much sense. Aziraphale’s the biggest hedonist Crowley has ever met in all his long, long existence. He delights in all kinds of earthly pleasures, food of course, but also massages and manicures and getting his hair done even though he doesn’t need to. Of course sex was next on his list. Of fucking course.

“You’ve never,” Crowley sputters for a second, forcing the words out past the lump in his throat. “You’ve never done it with anyone? A human I mean?”  
Aziraphale shakes his head emphatically, “no my dear, the appeal was never really there. I considered it, I suppose but, well, I didn’t want to do it with just anyone, you understand.” At this he looks at Crowley meaningfully, directly in the eye.

Crowley suddenly wishes he was wearing his sunglasses. He’d gotten into the habit of taking them off when it was just Aziraphale around, after all, there was nothing to hide. But now he would give almost anything for some barrier between him and all the meaning that Aziraphale is directing straight at him.

It takes him a moment to regain the ability to form coherent thoughts, let alone words. It seems like everything he’s ever wanted is right there at his fingertips, like he could reach out and hold all his fragile hopes in his hands. He’s terrified. It’s too simple, he thinks, something has to give. Sixty year old words echo in his head; you go too fast for me, Crowley.  
But Crowley feels his resolve crumbling by the second, as it always does when it comes to Aziraphale. So, he asks; “but you want to do it with me?”  
“Of course, my darling. Who else?” Aziraphale reaches out, across the bare few inches between them, and ever so gently cups Crowley’s face in his palm. Crowley thinks, ridiculously, that he might cry. “You’re the most important being in my life, Crowley.”

Crowley simply can’t take it anymore. He pitches forward, easy as falling off a cliff and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s. It’s clumsy, inelegant, and for a moment they both just sit there, lips pressed together, totally unmoving. Then, Aziraphale shifts, just slightly, tilting his head just so to one side, and flicks his tongue out gently across Crowley’s lower lip.   
It felt like electricity, shooting up his spine, and Crowley makes a noise he will vehemently deny was a whine. He reaches out, blind, grabbing at Aziraphale’s jacket and pulling him closer. Experimentally, he parts his lips, just slightly. All at once, Aziraphale’s tongue is in his mouth, and oh that’s even better. He most certainly does not whine again.

Aziraphale pulls away, just slightly, “I’m so sorry it took me so long,” he says, voice breathy and broken.   
If Crowley had all his mental faculties about him, he might have said something soft and horribly sentimental, like, ‘it’s okay, Angel, were here now, aren't we?’  
So it's a good thing, then, that his mental faculties were otherwise occupied, and instead he simply pulls Aziraphale close again, crushing their mouths back together. He hopes Aziraphale got the message. I don’t care, just kiss me.  
Evidently, he does, since bare milliseconds later, Crowley feels the hand on his face slide around to tangle in his hair. The other comes down to grasp at his hip and pull sharply, and all of a sudden, Crowley finds himself straddling Aziraphale’s lap, and feels the hard length of his Effort pressed against the curve of his ass. Crowley can’t help but roll his hips down hard against Aziraphale’s, and he moans at the feeling of it. 

When he’d imagined this scenario—and he had, more times than he cared to admit—Aziraphale was his usual, gentle, innocent self. He imagined him tender and hesitant and whispering sweet reassurances in Crowley’s ear.   
Now, though, Aziraphale is anything but gentle. His lips leave Crowley’s in favour of latching onto neck, mouthing at the pulse point and placing little bites and kisses up and down the corded tendons. The hand in Crowley’s hair pulls at him roughly, forcing him to throw his head back and expose more of his throat to Aziraphale’s ministrations.   
It’s unexpected, but Crowley can’t find it in himself to care very much. If anything, this is so, so much better than how he’d imagined.

“Angel,” he gasps out as Aziraphale unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt to nip at his collarbone. He rolls his hips down again, and this time Aziraphale’s breath puffs out, hot and perfect over his kiss-bitten skin.   
“Angel,” he tries again, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I think this is traditionally done in a bed.”

The universe shifts and they find themselves in Aziraphale’s bedroom, which up until that moment had been an empty room he’d occasionally used to store books that didn’t fit anywhere else. Now, however, it contains a huge, plush, king sized bed, outfitted in forest green sheets with an obscenely high thread count.   
That solves that, Crowley thinks, and then doesn’t think anything else for a very long time as Aziraphale sets about undressing him, the excruciatingly slow human way.  
It feels like an eternity before Crowley is lying on his back, completely naked. It occurs to him, hazily, that he hasn’t even managed to undo a single one of Aziraphale’s many buttons, but that thought is just about the furthest thing from his mind. Aziraphale, for his part, looks at Crowley with an expression that Crowley can’t quite work out, but he knows that it is far, far too much, so much that he has to look away, burying his face in the soft sheets instead. 

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale breathes out softly, and places his hands ever so gently on Crowley’s sharp hips. “You are so lovely, Crowley.”  
Crowley feels himself blushing, tries to will it away, but promptly gives up as Aziraphale’s hands begin to stroke their way down to his ankles. He manhandles Crowley where he wanted him, pushing his knees up and apart, planting his feet on the bed.

Crowley opened his eyes then, and seeing Aziraphale still fully clothed and as put together as ever, suddenly felt horribly exposed.   
“You’re wearing far too many things, Angel,” He says, reaching up to try and remedy the situation, but is stopped by a hand on his chest.   
“Not just yet, my dear.”   
Crowley does not whine. “Angel, please— at least take off the damned coat.”  
Aziraphale smiles indulgently, and with a blink, the coat was gone.   
Crowley decides to try his luck again, “the bow tie too?” He blinks up at the angel, trying for innocent and pleading. He must get it right, because in the next second the bow tie is gone, and the top two buttons of Aziraphale’s shirt are undone.   
Crowley wants desperately to sit up, to get his hands under Aziraphale’s shirt, to map every inch of his skin with his fingers and his tongue, but Aziraphale’s hand is still planted firmly in the centre of his chest, effectively keeping him in place.

“Alright?” Aziraphale says softly, his other hand clasping over Crowley’s hip bone and tracing gentle circles in the dip there.  
“I might be better if you weren’t wearing so bloody much.”  
Aziraphale smiles and leans down, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s lips. Too chaste, and far, far too quick. “Another time, darling. Let me take care of you.”  
“Though you wanted to feel good,” Crowley replies, fruitlessly attempting to chase after Aziraphale as he pulls away.  
He doesn’t go far though, pausing to press a kiss to Crowley’s shoulder, “I do feel good, my dear.” Another kiss, this time to his ribcage, “would you indulge me in this, darling?”  
As always, Crowley can’t ossibly say no. “Okay,” he nods, “next time, though—”

He doesn’t et to finish the thought though, since quite suddenly, Aziraphale’s mouth is enveloping his cock, and it’s all he can do not to shout and buck his hips off the bed. He lets out a strangled moan, twisting his fingers in the sheets to stop himself from tangling them in Aziraphale’s hair.   
Sex—with humans at least—has never interested him in the slightest, so he has no point of comparison, but Crowley’s airly sure there’s o better feeling in all of heaven, hell, and earth, than the feeling of Aziraphale’s mouth. It’s hot, and wet, and perfect, and he keeps flicking his tongue in ways that make Crowley writhe against the sheets.   
“Oh, God, Aziraphale,” he moans, voice broken and pitched.  
Aziraphale hums disapprovingly and pinches Crowley’s thigh, which is probably meant to mean something like, blasphemous demon, but Crowley finds that he doesn't care whatsoever. The hum sends vibrations up his cock that wrench another, choked moan from his throat, and he doesn’t even mind the pinch. 

Aziraphale seems to forget his annoyance altogether, redoubling his efforts. He takes Crowley even deeper, the tip almost hitting the back of his throat, and hums again.   
Crowley can’t help but squirm, can’t help but arch off the bed, trying desperately to feel more. There’s a tight, hot pressure building in his abdomen, and he doesn’t know how much more he can take.

“Angel,” he gasps at another flick of Aziraphale’s tongue, “Angel, I cant—please, Aziraphale, I won’t be able to—“  
Aziraphale pulls off with an obscene pop, and Crowley finds himself mesmerised for just a moment by a string of spit that is connecting his cockhead to Aziraphale’s lips. “You can come, my darling,” he says, voice rough and, oh, Lord that voice. “I want you to.”  
It takes all his effort to protest as Aziraphale leans back down, licking a stripe up the vein on the underside of his cock.   
“Angel, wait, I want—I need more. Please.” His voice is all wrong, high and thready and horribly needy but he can’t help it. It feels like he might actually discorporate if he didn’t get Aziraphale inside him right that second.

Aziraphale pulls off again, looking him in the eyes for a long moment. Finally, he moves back up Crowley’s body, threading his fingers through his hair and gripping, hard. Crowley’s head falls back and his mouth opened on a moan, but before any sound could escape, Aziraphale shoves two of his fingers between Crowley’s lips.   
The weight feels exquisite in his tongue, the stretch of his lips only adding to the overwhelming pleasure. He swirls his tongue around, coating every inch of Aziraphale’s fingers in saliva, relishing the feel and the taste of the angel in his mouth.

All too soon, it’s hone, but before a whine can escape Crowley’s lips he feels spit-wet fingers sliding between his cheek, probing gently at his entrance.  
“Is this what you want, my darling?” Aziraphale asks, pressing a little harder. “You want to feel me inside you?”  
Crowley could only moan in response, shoving his hips up into the pressure, wanting more.   
Thankfully, Aziraphale, merciful angel that he was, gives it to him. 

The first stretch of his rim around one finger is just barely painful. Mostly though, it just feels good. Overwhelmingly good. Aziraphale works the finger slowly in and out of him, allowing the time to adjust before adding another.   
The stretch is perfect, utterly and completely. Crowley moans and ruts his hips down, searching once again for more.   
“Oh you lovely, filthy creature. Desperate for it aren’t you?” Aziraphale says, voice almost a low growl next to Crowley’s ear. He shivers with it, some combination of cool breath on his overheated skin and the wonderfully dirty words spoken by Aziraphale, of all people.  
“I bet you dream about this,” he continues, still working his fingers in and out of Crowley. “I bet you think about all sorts of things. My mouth on you, sucking your cock. And yours on mine, of course. But I bet this is your favourite, isn’t it. I think nothing quite excites you like the idea of giving yourself over to me completely. Am I right, Crowley?”   
He punctuates the question with a particularly vicious thrust of his fingers, and hits a spot inside Crowley that makes his vision white out momentarily. The cry he emits is so high it’s almost a scream, and his hips buck up entirely of their own accord.

“I asked you a question, my dear. Am I right?”  
Crowley sobs. “Yes, Angel, yes you’re right. Of course you’re right that’s what I want—what I’ve always wanted. I’d give you anything, everything you want, just please—“ He’s cut of with a gasp as Aziraphale’s fingers hit that spot again, and sparks of pleasure shoot up his spine.  
“Please what, darling? Tell me.” Aziraphale’s gotten the hang of it now, is hitting that little bundle of nerves with perfect precision  
.  
Crowley feels like he’s dissolving. Every one of his nerves endings is a slight with glorious pleasure, waves of it rocking through him with every thrust of Aziraphale’s fingers. The tight heat in his abdomen is growing more and more urgent, and it feels like he’s hurtling full speed towards something.  
Aziraphale tuts, “I asked you a question, Crowley.”  
“Please kiss me,” Crowley gasps out.   
Aziraphale indulges him, and from there it only takes one particularly harsh thrust before Crowley’s entire body is tensing up, the pleasure that been building up crashing over him like a tidal wave. He moans with it, grinding down onto Aziraphale’s fingers to prolong this perfect feeling, this ecstasy for as long as possible. 

When he comes back to his senses, Aziraphale’s removed his fingers from inside him and is lying on his side next to him, stroking gentle fingers through his hair. He feels raw and oversensitive, even just the fingers in his hair verging on too much, but he can’t imagine moving away, not when Aziraphale’s looking at him with such tenderness.  
“Thank you for that, my dear,” he murmurs, smiling softly.  
“Yes, it was a terrible hardship.” Crowley’s voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat before continuing. “I wish I could have touched you, though.”  
Aziraphale leans over, pressing a kiss to his sweat-soaked temple, “next time, my dear.”  
“So,” Crowley hesitates, still in disbelief that he could possibly be so lucky to have Aziraphale like this. “So there will be another time?”  
“If you want there to be, of course.”

Crowley hums. All of a sudden, he feels an uncommon rush of courage. “Angel?”  
“Yes, dear?”  
“I love you.”  
“Oh,” Aziraphale says, and for a moment Crowley feels doubt twist in his stomach, before; “I love you too.”  
Its the last thing Crowley hears before his eyes slip shut, and he falls into the most blissful sleep he’s ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic brought to you by: i cannot write smut for the life of me !!
> 
> also sorry if there’s any mistakes, I wrote this at 1am and changed the tense halfway through, I think I fixed it all but if there’s any mistakes I would very much appreciate them being pointed out to me :)
> 
> anyways, hope you enjoyed this (extremely self indulgent) fic, comments and kudos are very much appreciated. Have a lovely day/night !


End file.
